


He that is without sin

by pixiedurango



Series: Richard Armitage - Sensual Visual Prompts [17]
Category: John Proctor - Fandom, Richard Armitage - Fandom, The Crucible - Miller
Genre: Comfort, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Forbidden Desires, Forbidden Love, Puritans, passion and puritans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 00:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17213714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiedurango/pseuds/pixiedurango
Summary: John Proctor's desires, by the standards of his period, seems ahead of his time. Yet still he desperately tries to fit in. While longing for things he's not supposed to have and that he always seems to find in forbidden places.





	He that is without sin

**Author's Note:**

> This belongs to a collection of prompts I opened up for my followers on tumblr to choose a character portrayed by Richard Armitage and a collection of sensual/sexy gifs I put together merely for this purpose.  
> After the tumblr purge many of the stories got banned/deleted/hidden which I assume due to the nature of the gifs since the stories itself are rarely really explicit.  
> This is why I eventually decided to transfer my works to my Ao3 which I didn't do for the sheer number of Fandoms/Shows/Characters those stories belong to. My admiration for Richard Armitage let me write all those stories and I hope people will like it.  
> The gifs will be posted along with the stories so readers might decide whether I caught the spirit or not.

  


John Proctor was not known to be a merry man.

Too heavy on his shoulders all the responsibilities to make grow things on land that was  stubbornly defying all his efforts. Just as his wife did. Hadn’t he confessed? And suffered to gain absolution? God’s he may have gotten already, but getting Elisabeth’s still seemed asking too much. Her judging eyes followed him everywhere. Even into his dreams and he asked himself if it would ever be over whenever he woke in the middle of the night, in the makeshift bed he set up in one of the spare rooms since his wife had thrown him out of his own bed chamber.

Probably there was no end to his suffering and he truly believed it was his own fault. Sometimes he almost believed he was cursed and some bad seed was living inside him. Twisting his mind and planting sin into his thoughts. This longing for a warm, loving hand. Words that spoke of love and trust. Bodies entangled in heat. And a long time ago it had stopped to be Elisabeth he was longing for. She had been once, his wife and only woman he ever dared to dream of and a part of him wished her back into his fantasies for they would not be as sinful then as they were now.

Whenever the longing haunted him too strong, to not snap into madness he went out into the woods, pretending to have work to do. Taking the big axe with him. And while he was chopping wood like a madman he was praying.

_Our Father which art in heaven,_  
Hallowed be thy name.  
Thy kingdom come.  
Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.  
Give us this day our daily bread.  
And forgive us our debts,  
as we forgive our debtors.  
And lead us not into temptation,  
but deliver us from evil:  
For thine is the kingdom, and the power,  
and the glory, for ever.

_Amen._

Like a thousand times recited and still feeling dirty, hoping for a absolution that would never come.  
The axe his devoted will and the chop block his altar.

The wood he was cutting with powerful swings be his sins but no matter how small he cut them, they were still there.

He took them home to the fireplace. To burn his sins with the wood.  
But no matter how much of them went to ashes through the chimney, there were already a hundred more to be burned.

John Proctor felt he was an endless sinner and just because Elisabeth did not know all of them, did not mean his sins weren’t there. God would see them anyway. Maybe absolute him even.

But Elisabeth would never.

He was a lonely man after his wife had turned away. She let him his children to raise and to love but she punished him with denying him any emotion given by herself.   
He was a suffering man and he would have blamed her for it but he was no man of injustice.

John Proctor was completely certain that his pain was entirely self inflicted. He knew that sometimes things tend to happen where he was bound to lose the keen strong mind which anyone who knew him would have attested.  
His downfall was not the liquor.  
Or gambling.  
Not even rotten whorehouses were of any interest to him as he went on trying to be a respectable Christian.

But John Proctor could never stay away from girls with honest eyes, which they knew how to cast modestly and when to look someone straight in the face.

Over time even Elisabeth had noticed that less girls from around town and even from Salem were willing to work at the Proctor farm. Once he had mentioned that they needed a hand to help working the land and to look after the house and the boys. And after her, as his wife had be befallen by some sickness lately that left her weak and weaker.   
She only had given him a long strong look of silent disapproval.

From thereon John had spoken of it no more.

So when one day Patience Wagener knocked the door of Proctor farm, asking for work, John took her in without hesitation or doubt. Coming from Salem but originally from farer down south she was an orphan due some spreading illness that had taken her family. Had left with a little brother of barely eight summers who she needed to take care of.  
She was not the common farm hand. Older. More mature. Not likely to make eyes on her patron he thought.  
A modest and plain slender girl with almost untamable brownish locks and hazel eyes that she never cast to the ground when she spoke to anybody.

John rested his head in calm that night. Feeling he had done a good deed, taking in and care for a soul endangered to be lost and getting a farmhand in return.

And Patience worked good and hard.  
Her baby brother, Richard by name, easily won Johns heart as he was bright and witty and soon he felt like the boy was almost like one of his own so good he blended in.

Months went by and Patience never left a task undone. Cooking and cleaning, sewing and knitting, nothing she was shy of doing and there never was a complaint or a snappy word when she was asked to do something. Elisabeth finally could lay down to rest and she did with calm as she saw her house in good hands that she hoped would never reach out for her husband in sin.

When Patience’s work in the house was done she joined John on the acres, helping him to look after the crops they had sowed or tended the garden where they had planted several vegetables, just enough to use in their own kitchen.

John felt reminded of when Elisabeth and he were newlyweds and he remembered that Elisabeth had used to smile and laugh with him no matter how hard the work had been to feed their family.

And once more he felt guilt ridden and pain furrowed his face when he turned away to grab his axe and wander off into the woods.

~   ~   ~

“Why Master Proctor, you must be tired. There’s some stew on the oven.” Her soft voice startled him as he was still all with his own thoughts after he had returned from stacking the barn with fire wood once again. Finding the tin tub filled with warm water for him to wash after a hard day’s work.

“I…” He meant to pretend to not be hungry and have a fast retreat into the stables for one of the mares was in labor but he knew he could not, should not lie to her. “Then thank you Patience. For the stew…. and your hard work. It’s noticed and appreciated.” He could not return the icy stare of his wife as she sat silently at the table with her own bowl of stew.

He rarely said thank you. To nobody and while he had been chopping his sins into firewood today it had occurred to him that he maybe should.

Patience let hear her soft laughter reminding him on distant bells and chimes and went to fill a bowl for him and cut a slice of bread to go with it.   
“It’s nothing, Master. Work has do be done, mouths has to be fed. That’s what we do. It shall be enough to make our souls be light and please the eye of the Maker.”

“Amen!” pressed Elisabeth and stood from the table. Though this one was not like the others before, she sensed she was even worse and Elisabeth Proctor was not willing to witness.

“Why Goody Proctor, you barely ate a mouthful…” Patience hurried to push the chair out of the way so her Mistress could stand and would not trip. “At least let me bring you some milk with honey so you have something to fill your belly and let you sleep later. I’ll spice it up with a bit lavender if you allow?”

“In this house we do no fancies like that.” Elisabeth Proctor replied sharply and her tone made John look up from his meal but not say anything to interrupt. All kitchen was not his to decide, shall the women settle it between themselves. Yet he saw no harm in some lavender stirred into hot milk.

Patience shrugged and murmured a devout.  
“As you whilst.” and went over to the hearth to set up a pot with milk. Enough for all of them but she prepared Elisabeth’s first to bring it upstairs into her room where she was already resting against her pillows again, alone in the bed that had been hers and John’s back in the days.

“Bless you, child.” She said and it almost sounded like a curse when the words clearly were a blessing. But Patience only smiled, not ready to let herself be hurt by a bitter woman’s follies.

“I need to go to the stables, Patience.” John announced when she returned downstairs. “It will be a long night as far as I can see. Join me when your duties here are done. Bring hot water and clean linen as much as you can find. I may need your assistance with Hattie.” He got up while she nodded and was already half through the door when he turned around once more. “And I won’t object against some lavender spicing up my milk.”

“Aye, Master Proctor.” She replied, mind already absent taking on her duties and John realized he smiled when he stepped out in the unusual humid pre-summer heat heading towards the stable where he hoped his best mare would survive the night.  

She had joined him shortly after midnight when her work was done and everyone else on the farm sleeping. Carrying the tin tub filled with water, the linen tugged under her arm.

Hattie struggled even more hours until shortly before dawn a lanky, pitch black filly had been delivered only by the efforts of John and Patience. The mare would survive but it had been a close game losing her and they mumbled a thankful prayer together.  
Both covered in sweat and blood and unspeakable other things but utterly relieved and he felt a deep happiness as he had not felt it in a very long time.

“Come, Patience, clean up. Breathe. Rest.” He offered while he was still busy rubbing clean the little creature with straw so it would come to life, encouraged to get up, stand and to find where his mother would provide its first meal. John chuckled. “I’m tempted to call her Patience, but I don’t think anyone but me in this house would approve of that…”

She looked up from hunching over the tub, and her eyes told him she did not object but agreed that it was a bad idea.   
“She shall have a name beginning with an H like her mother as this is how things are done.” She said instead and he solemnly nodded.

“Hope, then.” He decided after another moment of consideration and eventually helped the little filly to find her way to drink.

“It’s a good name.” Was her only comment as she sat back, giving him space to clean up himself.

Afterwards they were sitting, backs against the stable walls, taking a few moments of rest after the turmoil of the night until she was about to jump up. “Why I forgot, Master Proctor wanted milk…”

But he held her back, grabbing for her arm to make her sit back again instead. He did not want her to go. Did not want her to destroy the peaceful wholesome moment. He wanted to live forever like that. Happy. Tired but happy. With her.

Later John Proctor would remember that this was the moment when he fell to sin again. And this time it was not the burning flame of lust that led him onto the path to damnation but something even more wicked and despicable: The feeling of home and love, found within a woman who was not his wedded wife.

First he only urged into her arm, craving the feeling of a warm body against his. Feeling lively arms wrapped around him allowing him to live there.

And Patience held him. Against better knowledge and her raging fear of being caught was she not capable of letting go and sending him away. He would have gone if she demanded so, but she remained silent except some soothing noises while she held him close to her heart.

Once again he found the gate to hell to stand open wide, and John Proctor knew he would walk right through it again if she just let him.

And she let him.  
Patience never intended to steal a married man away from his family but truth to be told, loneliness and hardship even made the strongest woman longing for some warmth once in a while. It was a welcome and long lost feeling, when at some point his hands stopped to just hold but began to caress.

The merciful darkness of the still lingering night put its veil over them, not able to look into each others eyes when eventually hungry lips found each other and they fell back into the hay. Holding, kissing, feeling each other like a life line and she just gave in to the warmth that took a hold of her as she let herself go in his arms.

John did not question her eagerness or that she silenced his guilt ridden-apologies bubbling from is mouth once he realized what they were doing unable to put a hold on it. He just was letting himself fall over the edge again. Having the warmth of a woman against him, one who was willing to appreciate what he had to give and willing to give something equal in return.

He craved the feeling of two souls united as one and once he would be sobered down from the high of passion he would continue to ask himself why he was like this, chasing ideas that surely the devil had planted into his weak mind.

But for now all that was real was this heavenly soft woman in his arms. Her kisses set him on fire and they almost were unable to pull away from each other before more despicable sins could happen. They lay in the hay like the sinners they were, hidden and dirty, panting but not having ended it.

“Master Proctor…” She murmured against the warm skin of his chest that rose and fell quickly from his rapid heartbeat but he did not let her finish.

“John… for when we are alone you may call me John.”

“As you whilst… John…” She smiled but there was concern in her voice. “We better should not continue like that. As for the walls have eyes and ears everywhere and we don’t want to bring turmoil over your family. I might take my…  _brother_ and be on my way if you’ll pay me what I have earned so far…” Her speech eventually faded as she felt some sudden sadness rise. She actually liked this house and the people who lived there. Even Goody Proctor was a good woman in her own terms and it was a good place to raise a kid. But what just was happening could endanger them all.

From the way she spoke the word  _brother_  John suddenly knew something was off and then he connected the dots.  
She  _knew_. No virgin would welcome a man like she had done, even without giving herself completely over.

He swallowed. Half tempted to take her offer to leave in order to save his own soul. By risking to sacrifice not only one but two others.  
“Richard…” He swallowed… “He’s yours.”

Patience Wagener stared for a moment and then abruptly tried to get up. Flee from his arms, that were still holding her tight. Desperately trying to tidy up her clothes that had been all torn and messed up in the heat of the moment. He had been her warm and safe haven just a moment ago and now she realized how wrong and dangerous it had been to give into her longings so easily.

“You don’t know what you are talking…” She just hissed, trying to get as much space between herself and him. Knowing she was at his mercy now and forever, better running than having him judge her and probably send her to be judged by the whole town.  
But he wouldn’t let her go. Not letting go of her hand, somewhat forcing her to remain sitting close.

“I think I know. And I swear you are safe with me. Just tell me what happened. Have you been forced?” He desperately tried for a calm voice but the turmoil rumbled underneath making his dark baritone sound hoarse.

She just shook her head, unable to look at him for the first time ever. If she would burn she would at least take the promise from him to take care for the boy, even though he was not his, he could teach him to be a farmhand to help him. But she would not even come to ask for his word as he continued to ask.

“Widow then?” He softly tucked a stray lock behind her ear, as her headscarf had fallen off a long time ago.

Again she shook her head.  
“He promised me to marry me.” Words came slow, uneasy and almost in a choked stutter. But she continued her confession and with how she continued she slowly regained her strength as she spoke. “I believed him and I’ll be damned I did because he already had a wife and a flock of children at the other end of town. At least he provided for me and the boy just so we did not starve and visited just often enough so people did not talk. But then he fell from the docks, broke his neck. No one believed me when I told my story and claimed my rights. No one was willing to take me in in all Boston and give me work. That’s when I left to find work elsewhere.” She took a deep breath, stretched her back and made herself look into his wounded, deep blue eyes again. “Now you know and now you are free to send me away to have back your peace and not have your family spoiled by a sullied one. Or give me over to the church to judge me. But whatever you do, I beg you to look after my boy.”

John Proctor firmly believed that he was a sinner and not a good man for he was stubborn and proud and sometimes not master of his cravings and his lust. But what he never could see was that he had a sincere and good heart.

John Proctor was a man ruled by common sense and sometimes by passion. And he never would chase a creature from his door sill, sending them willingly into hell. So it was the natural thing to do to stretch out his hand to her, offering his bargain. He forbade himself thinking of all the things that might be in the future between them because for once he felt he did the right thing offering her shelter, work and bread. Nothing more and nothing less and he truly hoped he would be able to stick to this noble goal.

“Why Patience Wagener would you think I would ever send you from my property. For I had never a farmhand as capable as you were. May come hell and devil, but I hereby promise to God and the Holy Bible that I, John Proctor, will protect you and those who can’t provide for themselves. Do your work as you did before and no one must know anything else. You are save here and heaven forbids anyone tries to lay hand on your little brother!”  
  
She took her time to consider but then she just said “Thank you… John.” while she eventually took his hand to seal their unholy deal.


End file.
